Guernsey
by StarSpangledSilence
Summary: The hero and his Brit leave for holiday: a mysterious island off the coast of the UK seems ideal. They're just about ready to ravish each other inside the ancient Victorian mansion, but the masters of the house have other plans for the two. Tick, tock, time changes, blood spills. One way out: defeat the darker sides of yourselves. RP with DestinyShiva 2P!USUK/USUK. Warnings inside.


**A/N: This is going to be sort of a controversial story, I realize, so I'm going to put the warnings out here first.  
****It will contain:  
**-**dubcon/noncon  
**-**original characters as main characters (2P America and 2P England)  
**-**mentions of blood/gore**  
**-explicit sex scenes**

_This was a collaboration between Miss Destiny-Shiva and myself that finished about over a year ago, when Second Player characters first got released. Thus came the idea of a 'haunted' mansion as their counterparts try to take over their roles as countries. I played the part of Alfred and Damian Jones, and she played the part of Arthur and Eames Kirkland. I'm just now editting and uploading this because I've decided I want to get the character designs out there. Additional stories about Damian will be added to my Art and Writing Blog._

**Hope you enjoy the story.**

* * *

"..."

A familiar Briton looked down at his phone. That was the fifth time this day that he had gotten a silent call from a withheld number. But it was not silent. There was crackling that came from the phone, like the snap of a fire, before there were tiny, tiny breaths. It cut out not long after. No matter how much he asked them to reveal their names, they never did. As the breathing started on this call, Arthur rolled his eyes and hung up.

"I really don't know why I keep answering," Arthur told his partner, as he struggled to stash his phone away again in his pocket. The seat-belt of the car they were in jammed and stuck into his neck as he fought to move his hip into place. The calls would not be so frightening, if it had not been that only his government and his closest allies (not friends, why would he have friends?) had the number.

Was this Francis playing a perverted trick on him? At first he suspected so, but now he doubted it. It was not Francis's style.

"Tell the number you'll set the FBI_ and_ Secret Service on them," the other male suggested, and kept driving along. He had prank calls so often that this wasn't really in the least concerning. What _was_ concerning to him was that someone had tampered with his phone as well, it seemed, and altered it so that only certain sounds could come out of the speakers. So, no music. No calls, even. Only his ringtone and an eerie bell tone would occasionally come out, and it wasn't like he could hear a voice anyway.

As long as he could text Arthur.

"It doesn't tell me the number, Alfred. I would have blocked it by now if I did," Arthur replied. He sighed, and returned his eyes to where they were in the first place. He shuffled the map back into his lap, and then peered out in front of them to check which road they were on.

"It's... er. Ah, okay, I know where we are." He glanced back down, and traced their route with his finger. A map of one of the Channel Islands was on the paper. He licked his lips as he considered how far they were from their destination. "About five minutes now, Alfred. Almost there."

"Next time, pick up and just _tell_ the person to their anonymous face. Has to be _someone_...hmm. You'd think you wouldn't need a map for your own geography, Art." They passed a road sign- Next exit, 3 3/4 km. Not that they needed that. Even though the skies filled with that thick, bright fog, almost dreamily incandescent, the roads were clear. They could have stopped the car and investigated any time. Alfred kept giving little peeks out the window, frowning. "Hey, Arthur? Can you wipe Texas for me real quick?"

"It's Guernsey. I don't bother with Guernsey. It's a Crown Dependency, not part of the UK." Arthur responded as he leaned over with a tissue to wipe the external side of the lenses. "Better?"

"Yup," confirmed his blonde dork of a boyfriend. The American grinned to himself over something.

"It's the next turn, Al." Arthur pointed out, and folded the map up. They'd find their way from here.

It was a bit of a bizarre place to go on holiday. Especially with your boyfriend. Or Fiancé, as the emerald-gemmed ring on Arthur's second-to-last finger would imply. It was a slim, intricate thing, the silver pliable and slippery smooth on his skin. But they had been speaking of potentially doing this for months - finding a nice place out in the countryside and renting it out for a weekend. It was him that insisted on one of the islands. He thought it would be a nice, peaceful place. They would not get bothered by people here, and he already knew the towns to be nice ones.

"Roger," Alfred confirmed. Arthur observed him. That well-defined jaw gleamed from the pale day, his lips slim but full enough. Arthur knew them to be warm. Lovely texture. Good for kissing.

Alfred shifted to the right-most lane, but still frowned at his glasses. _Was that like a glare, or something?_ He kept seeing something in the rear-view mirror, always gone as soon as he turned to get a better look. He had bad feelings. A nervous tingle. But to be following them all this way, it had to be a glare. Still...they were a little tense for this to be a holiday, and so Alfred left it alone and instead reached across the car and took Arthur's hand, which had been resting primly on his lap a second before. "Now where?" he asked, as they did indeed exit.

"Just up on the left, Alfred. There's a slight hill," Arthur said. As the road started to ease out from tarmac into a dirt road, Arthur worried about the condition of the car. Still, it was only a rented one. Any damage they could easily cover. _Maybe I'm getting old,_ he mused. As the terrain began to go up, Arthur was intrigued by the steepness of it. "That's funny," he said. "I don't remember there being very many big hills..."

"Well, to be kinda honest, this here is _huge_. Wow, I feel like we're over the hill already, Art," Alfred teased, a little half-hearted, and looked around. Damn. The road didn't seem to lead anywhere, just disappeared a little bit ahead into the empty, foggy unknown. Maybe that over the hill idiom was a bad thing to use? "Shoulda went to Hawaii or something...we're lost, huh?" The fog was all the thicker. What weather they had here! Alfred found himself craving a bright orange Texas sunset right then, a taste of warmth or colour.

Arthur snorted.

"Oh please, me, in Hawaii for a relaxing weekend? I've have a horrible time. My skin would burn instantly, for one- Here, look, it's easing out..." Arthur said. Fine, so perhaps they had gotten the wrong date. Had forgotten to check out the weather beforehand. It was not like he could have predicted it. Alfred should learn not to impose his negative thoughts _now_. He had plenty of time (see: half an hour) to stop him from booking this place! He could feel an impending lover's tiff.

When they got to the top, Arthur blinked a few times at their destination. The house, loosely named, on top of the hill was a lot larger than he had expected. The clearing around it seemed that much brighter, illuminating the grandeur of the building, the majesty. He frowned. It definitely was the right address.

"That's... interesting." He remarked. The house, mid-Victorian age but recently renewed back to her original splendour, was three stories tall. Her walls were thick and blackish, nothing like the large estates Arthur had dotted about in his country. It was odd. Nothing like he had expected to see - especially here of all places. Still, he could tell from the externals that it was going to be highly Victorian and intricate inside. Strange as it was, it still excited him. "_Look at this place_, it's brilliant."

"Um...Arthur...I just. This place? Oh, God, we really should have gotten a place in like, the woods. Or_ Montauk_. Or Vegas, but look at this!" Alfred's blue eyes were highly apprehensive as he gazed at the building. Hollywood music played in his mind, evil connotations and all! "It looks haunted, Arthur."

"Yes- Isn't that fantastic?!" Arthur exclaimed. Silly Alfred, to think that the idea of ghosts and demons would scare the Brit. As soon as Alfred parked up, Arthur was bursting to release his seat-belt and go have a look. He unbuckled, and rummaged in one of the bags he had stowed away at his feet for the key. It was large, and aged, and now Arthur knew exactly why. "Don't worry. We have each other to distract ourselves - and regardless, there is still the sea to look at, and the towns to visit. It's a lovely location."

The mansion peered back at them ominously.

"Lovely?" echoed Alfred, who followed behind Arthur, and only then because he was scared something would run out and snatch his Brit away. "It looks evil. Honestly, Arthur, can we _not_?" His voice was uncertain, and his pupils dilated in the dim light, seeing the iron-wrought gates over the doors. Crap. His justice senses tingled and told them not to venture a step closer.

"Alfred, we've got a weekend off. We're in a good location. Why would you want to leave? Getting the boat back again would be a hassle, and we've already rented the car," Arthur explained to him. He got himself out of the car and listened to the grinding of the stones under his feet as he walked across the footpath. He glanced back, seeing Alfred's worried expression. "If you're still scared later, love... I'll make it up to you." The context there was not exactly miss-able. The green eyes shone extra bright under those thick lashes, and Arthur's skin glowed in the mist.

"Sweetheart, this isn't a good location. I'm telling you, my American senses are tingling. Something isn't right..." In no way did he want to disappoint Arthur, but he was pretty freaked out. When the prospect of sex couldn't distract Alfred, something was definitely up. Ghost house, it seemed like. "If you want to, I'd follow you, but like...like..."

"Alfred, I assure you. I promise on my life that this house will be absolutely fine. Now, are we clear?" Arthur asked, giving Alfred an unusually friendly look to try calm his nerves. Even if it was strange, after all, they had each other - didn't they? It's not like either would abandon the other. He patted Alfred's shoulder, and went up to the house. The key slotted easily onto the aged lock attached to the equally aged door. He considered the wood, rubbing his fingers over the surface. "That's interesting. It's old, but wood like that should have rotted away a lot more by now. Oh no, Alfred! Our ghost likes taking care of his things!"

There was some teasing laughter hidden in his voice. Perhaps he was winding Alfred up a little bit too much. But, he did say that he would make Alfred feel better about it. All weekend. He licked his lips at the thought of it.

"Don't make fun of me. I'm just saying that it's so weird. Looks abandoned. Honestly...it's unnatural. Ghosts do preserve things, time stops at the time they've died, you know?" But Alfred came after Arthur, took his hand and squeezed it. All too clear that the poor American was_ terrified_ of this house, but the battle in his mind declared that Arthur was there too. Maybe it was just that he wasn't used to things this old on a regular basis and Arthur, being a European who'd been around much longer, was more accustomed.

Before Arthur pushed the door open, after it clicked unlocked, he glanced around and caught the look of uncertainty in Alfred's eyes. He pressed his back against the door, and let the dark wood surrounding him frame his slim and pallid-coloured self. "Oi, Alfred, I told you not to worry. Here. We'll go inside, and we'll make lunch and explore. Or, I'll push you down onto the couch and show you_ just_ how okay I can make this trip be. You love it when I ride your cock into submission, don't you, my champion?" Those long eyelashes flittered.

_Holy shit, _said a more sane and awake part of Alfred. _That escalated quickly._

"Arthur..." Alfred had regained some of the colour in his cheeks, and now looked at Arthur with a mix of apprehension and exasperation. Not like he didn't want it, after so long without a touch of his fiancee, nearly three months... But all the same. He had a special gleam in his eyes that made them bright green in the dark light, and he was irresistible. "Let's not, honestly." But he stepped in after his British love.

Right. Arthur's eyes darted to another place, and he took a breath - shoulders rising slowly, and then dramatically falling in a huff. "Fine," he said, badly hiding the disappointment there. His eyebrows then tightened as his forehead muscles tensed. "What exactly were you expecting us to do on this holiday, then? Sit and talk about the news?"

Rolling his eyes, Arthur turned back around and pushed the door open. They were greeted immediately with a simple hallway. The walls were split in half into two designs; one, a jade and dark green striped wallpaper, each stripe almost a foot wide; the second, was a dark, painted wood. Oak, if he was not mistaken. Oak panes placed against the walls and painted dark green to match the rest. He tutted. "Surely they'd know that lighter colours generates more room. Why would you want your hallway looking so narrow? Gosh." He remarked, stepping inside. A warm, reasonably fluffy carpet greeted them. "Look, even the skirting board is dark. Black!"

"Maybe because it would upset the ghosts," Alfred mumbled, half-heartedly, but didn't dare say anything more. He followed Arthur very closely- rather stepping subconsciously in front of him as he tried to explore, as if he was trying to shield him from the house itself. His heroic instincts came out even now, when he was so out of his element of science and modern architecture and air conditioning. He wanted to keep Arthur safe. Yes, wallpaper was _much_ too hazardous for his dear British love. For an American, he was doing a splendid job of keeping his mouth shut and his eyes wide. "...It's so dark in here. The windows are all shut."

..._creeeeeak._

"Oh my God, oh my god, oh my god!" The sound came from upstairs- way up, although the house really wasn't that big, or at least didn't look it. But Alfred pulled Arthur into his arms like a teddy bear. "What do you think that was, Arthur?"

"It'll be the wind, Alfred. It'll just have made a door shut or something. Maybe there's a draft upstairs, I'll check it out soon," Arthur said. He was beginning to lose his patience with his lover now. He grabbed his chin, and made the American look at him eye-to-eye. "Alfred, look at me. I want you to trust me. We-Are-_Fine_."

"...r-right." Alfred swallowed and nodded, before reaching out and touching Arthur's cheek, needed to stop seeming like such a wimp. Good thing it was _Arthur_ here. Who had always made him calm down in situations like this, who was lovely to him despite everything. Who was going to marry him, and yes they were on _vacation_. And so Alfred kissed him, instead, eyes closing. Ah, finally.

Arthur kissed back, having no fear as he touched lips with Alfred and drew him in closer. Their tight embrace was met with a small, satisfied noise from the smaller blonde. Yes, Alfred was getting it. He broke away and smiled. "At least you don't have to convince me to sleep in the same bed as you, this time. Now come on, let's go get the stuff from the car."

"Yeah...you're probably right." Alfred felt himself getting dizzy, incensed by the scent of Arthur that he'd missed so much, dizzy from his smile, dizzy from his obsession. He turned to the door, and opened it again- maybe the fog was kind of peaceful?- and headed out to the car, ready to carry the bulk of their things.

Following after him, Arthur took the spare few smaller bags that they had. He heaved them out, and shut the car, taking the keys from Alfred and locking it on the way. He walked haphazardly towards the house, with his luggage being heavier on one side rather than the other, and tossed them in once they got back inside. He gave a sigh of relief, pleased to have that task temporarily over. "Right! Let's go see if they've left us food. The emails said they'd get us things to eat before we arrive... Hampers of food, isn't that sweet?"

"I guess so," Alfred commented, setting down his things, Arthur's things, then a shared trunk of stuff between them. Dust rose from the carpet, and sprayed in the air- in need of a vacuum, it seemed. But it glowed in the light that filtered in from the door. "Should we unpack, first?"

"Oh, don't bother- We've only just got in, love!" Arthur said, chucking the car keys on top of their luggage. No need for those any time soon. He ventured into the kitchen, which he correctly guessed to be at the end of the hall. Clapping his hands, Arthur was pleased to notice that it was not modernised at all. Yes, it looked just like they were in the 1800's. Brilliant. He spun around, taking the view in, before he noticed the large wicker basket full of stuff. A red and white checkered picnic cloth rested inside, and then on top of that was all the food they could have hoped for. Jams, biscuits, chocolate, fruit - marmite! Love a bit of marmite. He picked up one of the loaves of bread and smelled it. "Mm... Properly fresh. They must have brought it fresh, today."

"That's weird. You'd think they'd greet us first, then, looks like no ones been here for _years_. And I hate marmite...the stuff's gross. How can you eat that stuff and still taste so good?" Alfred was poking around the kitchen, seeing no stove whatsoever, no _microwave_, even, no oven, and looked at Arthur in alarm. "What room is this?"

"It's the kitchen, you twit. You lived through the Victorian Era. Surely you should recognise the technology. My, my, Alfred. Catch up, love. Ah, yes. This'll be just like going back in time till the good ol' days. Before we were concerned about the retched macroeconomy and the environment," Arthur said, giving a laugh at the thought. This was going to be an interesting weekend. He turned around to face Alfred, before glancing over his shoulder into the hallway.

He frowned. "Did you close the door? Funny, I swear I saw it open when you came into the kitchen."

"The... door? Maybe. I wasn't paying attention," Alfred answered, honestly, turning around and giving the old door a glance. Closed. Had he? Or had he been too eager to come and investigate where Arthur was? "Wow. No microwave for three days. I don't know if we can make it through the weekend." How right he was.

"Alfred, we can cook." Arthur said, brushing it off, before he recalled something in their not too distant past. He quickly corrected himself. "Rather, _you_ can cook and I'll keep you company. There might be some nice restaurants in the town as we-"

**_'_**_Ho__w c_**_an th_**_ey b_**_e ti_**_red_**_ of Engl_**_and_**_~?'_**

"-sodding heck," Arthur trailed off as his mobile phone went off again. He dove into his pocket to fish it out, and scowled as he placed the phone to his ear. He answered. "Come on, come on, tell me something. Francis! Is this you? I swear to God if this is you, I might lob your knackers off."

"..."

Alfred, then, stared at him uncomprehendingly. Not understanding a word of the British that just spewed forth from Arthur's mouth, except that the weird person had called again, and he had to hide a smile seeing the adorable expression the other had on. Oh, Arthur.

"Francis, I'm serious. Alfred's got a very large circular saw at his house, and I'm going to commandeer it and introduce it to your-"

"_...**rin**g ar**ou**nd t**he r**oses..._"

The mood changed, and a layer of frost covered the atmosphere. Arthur's expression suddenly fell, and he instinctively switched the call off. He tossed his phone onto the table in immediate reaction, darting back away from it as if it was a dangerous animal. He tugged his hands protectively to his chest. Green eyes staring at it. "What- What was...?!"

Alfred looked at him in alarm. He'd been alarmed by the appearance of the house, but Arthur? Arthur was freaking out over his mobile. "What? You okay, baby? What is it?" Pretty clear that Alfred hadn't heard a thing, but he did see Arthur's fear and that only made him bolder, coming forward and picking up the phone.

"No! No, don't touch it-!" Arthur said, reaching forward to stop Alfred in his tracks - letting the phone fall from his lover's hand. He retreated again, and placed his hand over his mouth as he tried to take in what just happened. "...It. It spoke. There was a nursery rhyme. A child's nursery rhyme. But it wasn't a _child's_ voice. It was... older. Adult. Male. Like... like mine." _A lot like mine._

"...could be some prank caller, Arthur. Arthur, calm down, c'mere." Alfred tugged at Arthur's arm, pulling him in and kissing him on the forehead once, twice, three times. Feeling the rapid, hummingbird-like heartbeat in the other's chest, seeing the panic in his eyes. He racked his brains for some rationale. "Think about it, everyone's voice sounds deeper over the phone."

Anything to calm Arthur down. He held the Brit a while, feeling utterly at peace as the quickened breathing slowed to normal.

"...Right, you're right. Of course you're right," Arthur sighed, accepting Alfred's words. He took a deep breath and calmed down. After all of the calls he had gotten, he had short patience when it came to further contact. He wanted to know why they had his number and continued to haunt him. He wrapped his arms around Alfred. "Right. I'm sorry, I'm just a bit jumpy. Let's... Let's go sit down in the living room, s-shall we?"

"Yeah. It's a number a bunch of teenagers figured out, probably, it'll be fine. Come on...we're alone. Finally. We can cuddle some until you feel better..." Loving and adoring, Alfred pressed his lips to Arthur's, pulling him up so that he could wrap his legs about him as he was lifted, and carried him along the house, through the doorway to the next room- what he assumed was a kind of sitting room. It was elegant, with tassles dangling down the fine silken cushions.

Arthur attached his legs around Alfred tightly, making sure they were connected with a hole between his legs smaller than the size of Alfred's hips so he wouldn't fall. He kissed back, slowly and smoothly rather than demanding. Fingers gently tickled the base of Alfred's neck, and he smirked as Alfred found a sofa and laid him down. Perfect; a love-seat style settee. When the kiss broke, he regarded his Fiancé proudly. "Come here."

"_Yes, please_," Alfred whispered in, able to forget everything else what with Arthur so close and available and alluring. Face of an angel. Slowly, he crawled over the smaller figure and straddled him, touched his cheek oh so lovingly, touched their noses together. Fiance, indeed, they were so in love it was crazy they hadn't married before. "I missed you so much."

The Englishman snorted, and rolled his eyes before pushing his body up so he could meet Alfred. Their noses touched before their mouths managed to, and he let their lips linger millimetres away from one another's. Reaching up, Arthur grabbed Alfred's shirt and tugged it, bringing him down on top of him properly before sealing them together with another kiss. He concentrated on those thin lips, enjoying every millisecond of the man soon to be his Husband.

"Mmm..." Alfred eagerly kissed back, sliding his lips along Arthur's, all fears and doubts gone beyond a doubt. He could only feel Arthur, so warm below him, his lips, so soft, and so pliable too as he eased them open and flicked his tongue inside of his mouth, quickly, before slipping it back out. Playful and light.

Arthur let his hands slip back and slide down to Alfred's chest, where he felt at the fabric there and consequentially massaged the skin beneath, before grasping larg clumps of his shirt. He chased his tongue back into Alfred's mouth, only dominating a kiss for a small second before he sucked it back in his own, tasting every bit of Alfred from the small muscle. With his legs still wrapped around Alfred's hips, he ground his hips upwards; allowing his lower body to press against Alfred's and _rub_ in the most obscene of areas. Arthur moaned into the kiss.

It got to Alfred hard. He didn't have a lot of weaknesses, but Arthur was a huge one on the list, and it was pretty clear Arthur wanted something from him. The American let himself dominate the kiss for real, curling his tongue around Arthur's and sliding it along, vigourously, trying to do the impossible and eat his mouth out, grinding his hips downwards steadily. Three months. It might have just been the longest time they'd waited. Too long, in other words. By the time the kiss was broken, the door to the kitchen was already closed.

"...H-Hah, _hah_..." Arthur panted as Alfred broke the kiss, tasting Alfred's saliva imposed on him. He rolled his body and let his hips press upwards against Alfred's longer than necessary. Above him, Arthur could feel the bespectacled blond get harder. Unsated eyes looked at fellow ones, asking if this was just going to be a little make-out on the sofa. His mouth followed suit. "I missed you. I missed you."

"There's my silver lining." Alfred's eyes were so very blue as he leaned in closer and closer, a little half smile on his face. Two hundred thirty four. Still innocent, for the most part. Well...innocent. He kissed Arthur until his lips were swollen, nearly bruised, ran his fingers down Arthur's cheek, so in love it hurt. It was messy and unconstrained, but damn if Arthur wouldn't feel every bit of his raw affection! His breathing was heavy by the time he backed up. Alone in a secluded house together.

"Do you want to, love?" He let his fingertips go through Arthur's hair, half-hard, aroused and able to dream because of the man before him. Arthur Kirkland. Gorgeous to say the least, and not only that- he was his last fifty percent to make one hundred. The one that lit up even a place like this with, well, warmth.

Arthur laughed lightly, and gave Alfred a look filled with appreciation and affection. He brushed their noses together again and darted up to steal yet another kiss. He breathed his future Husband in, smelling his scent full of pine and cinnamon and coffee and gosh knows what else, managing to detect him far easier than the stench of dust in the air. It was all him. It always had been. He laid back down, resting his shoulders on the arm of the chair. "It's been months, Alfred. _Months._ Claim what is yours."

Oh, yes. When he put it that way, he was just irresistible, and he smelled like the woods after a rainstorm, like the bittersweet fragrance of the nasty tea he always drank- but he could pull this off, yes he could. All of him. Spread out for him to take. And Alfred greedily latched his mouth onto Arthur's neck, determined to Mark every last inch of his skin down, his hands pulling at Arthur's shirt, sliding under it to run up his chest.

A gasp left the Briton, and he allowed Alfred to toy with him. The fingers gracing his skin, lightly darting over the pallid flesh, was just astoundingly alluring. Arthur knew exactly why he loved this man. He took care of him so, so readily. Alfred's interests were on making him feel good, and in turn Arthur's devotion was his. All his. He was like a toy that wanted to be played with, and Alfred the child that gained the satisfaction from messing with him. Such a good boy. "Mm, go get the lube and the condoms. Don't want to make a mess on their settee, do we? ...It's the black bag. One of the pockets."

A whine from Alfred who did indeed pull up but looking at a loss as he slid away from Arthur, who was looking so good and properly defiled there on the couch. "So far away...did you leave the back in the front hall or the kitchen?"

"By the front door, love-!" Arthur called at him, and gestured which way. As if Alfred had not already committed to memory where the door was. "There."

"I got you, I got you. This door goes out into that hallway, doesn't it? So, it connects to the same hallway that kitchen does." Alfred pointed at the third door in the room, which seemed to point towards hallway. After all, the house didn't seem that big. One from where they came, one to another room, and then this one...hallway? Physics told him he was correct.

"Well presumably. It's in the right direction for it," Arthur said, frowning at Alfred's confusion. Though he had to hand it to him; this place was unfathomably massive and complex, already. He eyed the third door, reminding himself to go through it once they were finished. "Could you go get the lube now, dear? Or I'll have to start preparing myself without you," he pursed his lips.

"Going! And if you're going for something like _that_, you've gotta at least let me watch." A last wink, then Alfred was out the door. Trying to look for the bags they'd left- yes, there was the hallway. The same hallway, there was the luggage... "Which bag is it? There _are_ no black ones!"

Oh, some of the petty spats they had.

"Oh, dark blue then! I don't know, just hurry it up, will you?!" Arthur grumbled at him, glaring back at the doorway as he listened in to Alfred fumbling about. How hard was it? Gosh, Alfred was jumpy today.

"Do we _have_ to use a condom?" Alfred's voice was a little whiny, and rummaging and zipping sounds came from next door, before Alfred stumbled back in the room with the lube and a handful of packages in hand. "We should have gotten a new bottle. This won't last us a day."

"Do you want to explain to the owners of this place why there are curious white stains on all of their furniture? The sofa, the desk, the kitchen counter-top the bed, the_ stairs_..." Arthur's voice trailed off cheerfully as he listed the places that he could imagine them doing it upon, in their one weekend away. It was like a honeymoon, before they managed to get married. He watched the glint in the emerald on his finger, before noticing that Alfred was back in the room. Turning around, he greeted his lover with a crooked eyebrow. "There will be soap. Or I'll suck. Come on, I want my man already. Don't keep me waiting."

"Keep you waiting? Never. I promise /that/ much, really, I hate to keep a pretty lady waiting." Alfred sauntered over, teasingly, watching Arthur's disarray on the couch, and leaned in. "So, on the couch. How do you want it, sweetheart? How do you want to be filled?" Because while he let Arthur choose the position and place all the time, no where did he let the other top. Ever. It seemed to be a given, and Arthur didn't particularly seem to mind.

"You're going to take me from behind, and you are going to hold onto me and kiss my neck, et cetera, as you do it - got it?" Arthur requested, and he sat up so he could rip off his shirt. He threw it nonchalantly to the side, and fumbled to get his trousers and underwear off as well. Naked quickly - though not in record time, both could assure with confidence - Arthur grabbed hold of the arm rest and glanced over his shoulder, settling down and _knowing_ that Alfred would not be able to resist. "Any time now, dear."

"Ooh..." Arthur was giving him that look, elongating his body and showing off all his finer assets. Gorgeous man, just evil, using his curves against him like this. And yet Alfred was tearing open the condoms impatiently and trying to unbutton his jeans at the same time, and wouldn't take his eyes off that ass, so it made the job three times harder. "You should really be stretched. Imagine if I accidentally tear you? And if you're worried about their furniture, you want a condom?" The American reached around to help roll one onto Arthur, taking care to let his hands slip and slide and grope while he was at it.

"A bit of rough fingering'll do the job. Unless, of course, you want me to do your job there?" Arthur asked, giving Alfred a knowledgeable look. He knew the American loved having a show put on for him. All the theatrics. Arthur could most certainly deliver. He flexed on the sofa, squirming lightly because he was beginning to get quite hard now. He accepted a condom and ripped the foil open with his teeth before sliding on the delicate rubber.

"...maybe." Alfred licked his lips a little, knowing that Arthur was a bit of a voyeur. At least with him! Teasing him with the stretching he did, if it could still be called that... But he did love to see a guy preparing himself. And Arthur was so wonderfully good at it he couldn't resist, so Alfred popped open the bottle of lube and handed it over.

Arthur took the lubricant from Alfred and squeezed a healthy amount onto his fingers. He rubbed his fingers in the stuff, single-handedly, and brought it downwards and behind himself. Soon, a middle finger was guiding its way down seductively across his cleft, and then plunging downwards still with the sculpture of his body before Arthur, experienced as he was, managed to place two fingers at his entrance and pierce them both inside at once. He ignored how tight and hot he was and how that was supposed to be glorious, instead only paying attention to the ache and the stretch and the _glorious_ feeling of being filled. He pushed them right in, reaching for areas deeper in his body, fighting against the resistance. "Ah!"

Oh. A man like that, all to himself all weekend long. Alfred swallowed hard, feeling saliva well up, and watched. If this didn't just add to his arousal, now...how tight Arthur looked, as he shoved his slender little fingers into that hole, how sweet that ass was. Yes, it might have been partly a show, the way Arthur made those lovely arousing noises, but part of it must have been honest. Because what a beauty Arthur was. "Did you finger yourself at all these months, honey? You look so good..."

Arthur shook his head and looked back over his shoulder best he could at Alfred again, as he rubbed his internal walls - making him emit a few high pitched gasps. He shut his eyes tightly and swallowed, trying to force himself to recover.

When he did, he gave a breathy laugh. "Toys," he explained, starting to pump his fingers in and out of himself now - with a roll of his eyes skywards in satisfaction. It felt good. It always felt good to get fucked. Probably why he enjoyed it so much. "I've got toys, I never used my own fingers. I brought one or two. Thought you could find a use for them. Anal and oral at the same time... Nnnngg... Mm. A charm. Alfred, I could use your hand too."

"Right, right." Arthur was one of those rare guys who could cum from anal stimulation alone, again and again and again. One of those qualities that just made him so much more desirable, and with Alfred, he matched perfectly. Dominance and submissiveness, those could occasionally exchange, but Arthur was always the one to take it. And if Alfred didn't love that! He lubed up two fingers and began to push them inside, along with the others, and did open them to stretch him.

He was so welcoming to be claimed, body always craving that touch. As an solitary, isolated island, it was hard not to understand why. He wanted someone to reach out deliberately for him and touch him, endear him, make him their own out of their own free choice; no longer a result of the wild little expansionist and imperialist empire, but of the human that rested far beneath it - just wanting to make a difference to lives, and for acceptance. For Alfred to want him beyond anyone, to want to take his body and his mind and his_ heart_, that was everything of true, personal importance to _him_.

Arthur moaned and closed his eyes again as he indulged himself to the brilliant feel of four fingers wedged inside him at once. His entrance stung as it was stretched, but he already knew it could handle more. Perhaps not fingers, but further. He withdrew his own, and cracked his eyes open slowly, letting the light fill his vision once more. "Alfred, fuck me." He told him. Not a request, nor a demand; mere instruction.

"Yes, _England_," Alfred replied back, in the same instructional tone as Arthur had used, and took his fingers out with a slick pop. Already undressed, he picked up a pack of condoms and pulled it open, pinching it and rolling it on, then smearing some of the leftover lube onto it and grabbed Arthur's hips, pushing him down. "Brace yourself." it was said in play, as the hardened flesh pressed against his hole, teasingly, sliding against it, then, in one swift move, pushed inside. Oh, Arthur.

"A-Ah! _God_, Alfred!" Arthur cried into the air, tipping his head towards the skies as Alfred entered him, forcing his flesh to part and accept him inside of his body. He bent his hips, pushing back to help Alfred get deeper, forcing their two halves of a whole to connect. Slender fingers gripped the sofa seat, and he tried to span his legs only to have one jam straight against the side.

Movement was a bit restricted. Where Arthur was not opened and could not let Alfred fit all the way inside without the effort of his hands to prise him apart and grip and thrust, his cheeks could still in case the handsome American in warmth. "A...a-ah... yeees. Dammit, I both hate a-and love this." Love, because it felt_ perfect_, and hate because it made him be in such a state of ecstasy to have Alfred buried inside him, penetrating him, fucking him, or most crucially, making love to his Fiancé proudly.

Arthur in such a senseless, trembling state was above what could be desired. Seeing such a slender form take in that thick girth was something on its own- but the noises he made, the way he clawed at the chair like it was driving him mad- that was it. Alfred leaned over him, close to crushing him but not quite, and kissed at his ear, breathing heavy from the warm tightness, from the jolts he felt. Oh, yes. "You're better than I remembered. Better than I imagined."

Alfred's praise made a warm shiver flutter down Arthur's spine. He wordlessly groaned, unable to stop the hot, fleeting noises escaping his throat. Under Alfred's mercy was where he had always seemed to find himself, recently. It made him so hot to know that Alfred still appreciated clinging onto him so readily, wanting his company and _him_. In turn, Alfred made him feel so special. "Alfred-Move in me, _please_," he called in urgency. "Take what you please..."

"You do know how to excite a man properly, don't you," Alfred commented, a low chuckle in his throat as he kissed the back of that pale, wonderful neck, as he gripped onto those curvy hips and pulled back, slickly, then pressed in forward again. Slow, like he was testing the waters. But the next few thrusts were fast, near brutally fast- it came without warning as Alfred latched onto the curve in his neck and suckled the skin, nipped at at it, a new fire alight in his eyes as he set on claiming Arthur all over again.

It had been deceptively slow at first, and that was where Arthur should have realised that he was going to predict Alfred's behaviour wrong - because it always surprised him when Alfred was so impatient. He knew Alfred was in love, but to know that Alfred was _so in love_ that he could not survive without what he craved was the most beautiful and unpredictable thing. Arthur found it hard to accept, honestly, because he had been used to not-quite requited feelings from people for years. Alfred not being the first - but probably the truest love he had ever felt. Arthur bucked back, taking Alfred's horribly strong thrusts and feeling his hips smack into the sofa below, while Alfred marked his neck. Three months. Three months without his Fiancé and_ this_!

"I want you. I...I love you," Alfred whispered desperately, between frantic kisses to the fine neck, between his heavy breathing as he overwhelmed Arthur with his extreme strength and took him wildly, without almost a resemblance of restraint. "I missed you. For so long...Arthur. Arthur, be mine..." Engaged as they were, there was a part of the American that was still unsatisfied. Arthur was still far away. Must be entirely his. Be with him. Forever.

"Hey, shh... It's only a few months now," Arthur breathed and let out a loud hiss as Alfred's cock stuffed inside of him deeply, making his body sore with the pace - especially since he was so out of practice. He concentrated, feeling his muscles being warped out of shape to fit Alfred's engorged member into him, as well as the sticky fluid being driven out, and then back into him per each untimed trust. A plethora of dirty smacking noises were filling the air as Alfred slammed into him. "Ngh-Few months away till-Ah! Till I'm yours! Only yours, _oh fuck_."

"Not...not good enough. I've waited for so long, I love you. I love you so much..." Alfred slowed down just a little, feeling the uncontrollable urges flicker, and resumed a more reasonable pace, still kissing at his fiancé's neck with so much tenderness the skin stained scarlet from the marks. His beautiful Arthur. What he longed for all the time. "I'm the only one who'll ever love you this much. I want you to know. I love you, okay?"

"_I-love-you-too_!" Arthur whispered beneath his breath before he erupted into another loud guttural noise. His muscles flexed and tightened hotly around Alfred's cock, twitching almost like an indicator that Arthur was close and needed more. The nerves in his body spurred life all through him till the very centre of him, his heart, and made it ache with want and need for more. "Alfred, prostate," he instructed again.

"Mmm..." They were well enough into their sex life that Alfred at least knew what to look for and a general area of _where_. Still- once, twice, it was on the third time that he finally managed to ram into Arthur's pleasure spot, and once he felt the other contract, he aimed there as a general rule and quickened the pace again. "Arthur, Arthur...mine...you're /mine/..." Reverent whispers, as Alfred was clearly in pleasure himself.

"And you're _mine_," Arthur was quick to point out, giving a breathy laugh. His breathing began to increase pace, in unison with the most frequent thrusts, and he clawed at the sofa uselessly as that bundle of nerves was struck over and over again my the American; who knew by now exactly how to make him pleasured. He reached down tentatively, not quite wanting to spoil Alfred's brilliant work, but finding himself too stiff not to touch. He wrapped his hand around himself, moaning as his cock was forced against his static hands by the furious thrusts. He continued the job, trying heavily to get off. "All mine- Ah! God!"

"Oh, I'm not...not God, Arthur." Alfred was quick to point it out, and the way he practically smothered the smaller, having already kissed his neck to the fullest, he moved to his shoulder and graced the pearly whites with more kisses. More, more, more. Even as Arthur trembled and arched back like that. "You feel so good. So _amazingly good_. Oh, I've missed you..." He plunged into his prostate again and again.

"Fuck, you might as well be...! Ah! Ah, _yes_!" the blond Brit cried at him, before he started to stroke himself faster - trying to meet Alfred's hot pace. Their now heated and sweaty bodies brushed, slender back to muscular front. The ravished Englishman gasped loudly a few seconds later, when the pleasure and the pressure _snapped._ He came inside the condom with a cry, spilling and constricting around Alfred perfectly. "Al! ...Al, gosh... ahh..."

The feeling of control sparked something deeper inside him and Alfred bit his lip as the hormones of having power and the pleasure of it all got to him, as Arthur squeezed those perfect cheeks tight around him and he came into the condom, moaning out Arthur's name with a small reverence and so much love that it had to be palpable. But he did cum, and when he did he did shake a bit. Still he managed to pull out of his lovely fiance, and managed to roll off the condom and toss it aside, eyes on Arthur alone.

Another tied condom was tossed towards the other, and a heavily panting Briton fell down onto the sofa. He gaped for air, sucking in what his body needed. Arthur's tired eyes looked upon Alfred's sated pair, and those thin lips of his were cursed with a small smirk. Flopping down on the sofa, Arthur groaned and opened his arms for Alfred to come into. "That, was amazing. Now, cuddle? You always want a bloody cuddle."

"Yes, love." So satisfied feeling, so at peace with the world. Alfred turned his baby blues to Arthur's, lips curved in the brightest smile, and cuddled down exactly as Arthur said. Leaning in to kiss at his forehead. "I love cuddling. And you do too, I don't want to hear a word against it. Gorgeous...you're seriously gorgeous."

"Mmmmm, you might have caught me out, there," Arthur conceded. He let Alfred lay next to him on the sofa, before he rolled on top of Alfred and gave him a tender kiss. He gave another mumble of appreciation. "One down-I wonder how many more times we'll make love this weekend?" He purred playfully, and shortly after was clamping his lips around Alfred's neck and sucking softly.

Alfred gave a shiver of anticipation, and felt a pang. Oh. Arthur was so wonderfully alluring, every word he spoke and every movement he did, it made Alfred fall deeper in love every time he existed and breathed. The glittery bottle green eyes still watched him, and Alfred slipped an arm around his waist. "So, so much. Til you're sick of it, love."

Arthur's lips moved onto a new spot, suckling Alfred's neck till his partially tanned skin was sore and red. He then chuckled, and ran his thumb over Alfred's cheek bone, feeling the curvature underneath the pliable flesh. "Is that a promise?" He wondered aloud. "Well. Why not start early?" Not long after, Arthur descended on Alfred, going right down to his crotch-level, breathing hot breath over the finished American's member and opening his mouth to-!

'_Ho**w can th**ey b**e tir**ed of **En**gland_?'

-and closing it right back shut again. He looked up, seeing his phone on the coffee table. His eyebrows tightened together once again. Did Alfred bring his phone into here? Because he did not remember himself doing it. Without thinking, Arthur peeled himself away to snatch the mobile phone up again. Almost like the ringing was possessing him to do it, without a choice.

"Hello?"

"_...**A pOc**KeT** fUlL** oF **p**OsI**e**S..._"

Arthur stiffened again, but this time he did not hang up immediately. The words transfixed him, and he listened. That, definitely, was _not_ a child's voice.

"_A**tIsH**oO**! At**Is**Ho**O_!"

Alfred was watching him from the couch with a huge amount of concern on his face. Oh, geez. When had Arthur brought the phone in the room again? Why was he listening to it? "Arthur? Arthur, who is it, love?" The way Arthur stood there was starting to scare him, really, and he stood up to come to Arthur's side and try to listen in.

Arthur held his hand up to both hush Alfred and to stop him getting closer. Those beautifully green orbs of Arthur's were clouded with concern, confusion and a little bit of unknown mystery. He had always been an overly curious type, but this was nothing he was used to.

He looked up at Alfred, and for the shortest of moments fear flashed beneath his pupils. It made Alfred see red and panic.

"..._Yo**U w**IlL** fAlL** dO**w**N_."

The effect of the words on Arthur was instantaneous. The twisted nursery rhyme ended on the incorrect verse, and suddenly Arthur's eyes were rolling back - flashes of deathly white - before he went fully limp and collapsed back against the sofa. Like a fallen angel. The phone slipped straight out of his hand and smacked into the dark-coloured wooden floor, cracking the plastic.

"Oh my- Arthur!" Alfred's eyes widened at the sudden change of mood that had occurred. So much for a peaceful weekend-everything else was wiped from his mind as he pulled Arthur up, patting his cheeks hurriedly and anxiously trying to feel for his breathing. "Arthur? Oh, God, are you okay?" Arthur was cold. Feverishly cold.

It was barely a few seconds, perhaps ten as a maximum, before Arthur arched up and gasped back into full life. His eyes flashed open, wide and somewhat tormented. They held hazy vision at first, but soon settled on Alfred in clear focus. He was breathing rapidly in his lovers arms.

"W-What?! W-Wh... oh my God." He squeezed his eyes shut again, and gave a small groan in protest. A hand appeared and he pressed it to his forehead to try heal the ache that had spread underneath the surface.

"What happened?" Alfred had been about to start CPR. The fear in his chest now was greater than any haunted house or old windows or ghosts- it reminded him just how limited and fragile the relationship he had with Arthur was. Limited to both of them staying alive and well and sane. "Who was it? Are you okay?" His bangs were pushed away from his eyes, and Alfred gazed into them. Then looked around the room.

"I'm o-okay, I'm okay-It..." Arthur squeezed his eyes shut even harder, letting the light behind the thin lids get closed out completely as he tried to recall what he had seen. They shot open again as it came to him, mouth open in exclamation. "Blue eyes. Crystal blue eyes, that's what I saw. Horribly pale crystal blue eyes," he explained, and took another immediate second to breath and clear his throat and mind. "...The call, the voice, it was in my head. I remember blacking out, and then there were crystal blue eyes, and then I was here. ...When... when is it? How long was I gone?"

"You weren't _gone_, not at all." Alfred looked at him in concern, now fearing slightly for his lover's sanity as Arthur ranted on about blue eyes. Eyes? How? Maybe it was because he was thinking about the way Alfred had stared at him in concern the moment before, and was having some hallucination? "You almost fainted for a bit. Oh, Gosh. You don't look so good..."

Arthur nodded, understanding what Alfred saw. He could feel droplets of cold sweat beneath his hairline, and he hastily wiped that away too. "Al- Air. Fresh air, that's what I need. Take me outside," he instructed, though felt momentarily guilty over how demanding he was being. It just so happened that he knew what was best for him.

"Of course," Alfred answered him, a little alarmed at his demands- but, really, they were at a point in their relationship that it didn't matter anymore. If his darling wanted it, then he should surely have it. Still bewildered, the American picked up their clothing from about the room, where it'd been strewn, and began to help dress Arthur, then pulling on some jeans himself. It _was_ cold outside, after all, and the fog was easily penetrating. Easy to catch a cold, and wasn't that the _last_ thing they wanted right now?

Slipping his arms around Arthur's form, then lifting him, Alfred carried his beloved fiance back through the kitchen, out to the main, dark hallway once more, seeing their things in a neat pile in the corner. It still looked reasonably foggy outside, but...Hm. Darker. Almost like storm clouds instead. He had to let Arthur down a while as he reached out to open the door, but there was one more problem.

The door wouldn't open.

Arthur, who had his arms around Alfred's neck and was clutching on while the American tried to open the door hastily, detected a problem when it took longer than it should have to open a simple door. He glanced around, seeing Alfred struggle. "What's wrong?"

"It...it's stuck or something. Won't open up...hold up." Alfred backed away from the door, set Arthur down, and ran at it, attempting to ram it open with his shoulder. The door shook, but didn't even budge. When the American kicked at it, it wouldn't move. No traces of air could be detected. "Damn it, what the fuck is wrong with this door..."

"Where's the key?" Arthur asked, before he gave a disbelieving sigh and rubbed the source of his headache again. The sodding key was outside. He never collected it. Great, this buzz in his head was going to last forever. "Fuck, h-hold on. Back door? Maybe the back door opens?"

"We can check there. Maybe even open a window. Hold on, baby, I'm going to get you some air. Just hold on." Alfred really did hate to be disappointing Arthur like that, and scooped him up again without a word, going on to search for a back door. Fucking huge mansion. As they left the hallway, both of them failed to notice that their things had disappeared from where they'd left them.

As they went back through the building, through the hallway and past the kitchen and into the sitting room and towards the third door, Arthur wondered about the dynamic of the house, calculating where they should be. He frowned, realising that a lot of things did not make sense. Like why did they not just use the second door to go straight from the hallway to the sitting room? It denied all logic. That was until he realised; there was no door when they were in the hallway at all. It only went up, or down into the kitchen. So... where did that other door - he looked at it over Alfred's shoulder - go?

"Something is going on," Arthur alerted Alfred. He watched the door carefully, working out the angles in his head. It should have backed out into the hallway. It _should have_. But didn't. Physics did not rule here. His still partially limp body clutched Alfred closely, and he reminded himself to come check a few moments later. After he breathes more than a sodding lung full of dust.

"What do you mean something is going on?" Alfred looked at Arthur a little strangely, and followed his gaze to look at the door- but without Arthur's structural ingenuity, he couldn't detect anything. But they crossed the sitting room, with their their love seat still slightly crooked where they'd messed it up, and made it to the third room, where Alfred carefully opened with a hand, balancing Arthur on his knee as he did so.

There, as Arthur had predicted, was a back door at the end of the room. Alfred took him to it

"Let me down. I'll get there," he commanded, his chin up. Alfred gave him a look, but slowly lowered his love to the ground, where the Brit shook his head and found his legs again. He could handle this. Dammit. He felt weak after fainting, but he could survive. Once there, he watched Alfred struggle once again with the door. He groaned. "Not again, surely! Is it locked?"

"I...guess so! There isn't even any lock space. How _can_ it be locked?" Alfred gave the door a kick in frustration, and glanced outside- stark contrast to what the front looked like, blooming red roses growing in clusters around what seemed to be a bright blue sky, brilliantly lustrous clouds pouring across the horizon line The fog even looked like it had gone away. "Damn...this is just weird. I can break a window, I guess."

Arthur looked away into the room to examine where they were, before something moved in the corner of his eye. He glanced around, wide-eyed at the scene. There was something that he had not picked up before. He slowly eased Alfred away, before staring down at the handle and lock. Letting out a breath he never realised that he was holding, Arthur gave a small, disbelieving laugh to accompany it. "...It's magically sealed. Why did I not notice that?"

"Magic," Alfred repeated a little dubiously, but then at the look in Arthur's eyes he sobered considerably. The Brit seemed to be on high alert now, and at least aware, but Alfred was starting to get freaked out. "Arthur, what do you mean? Explain it now. Then we've got to get out of here, I'm creeped out."

Arthur sighed, realising the enormity of their situation. He was glad that he did not let Alfred try break the glass already. He'd break his fingers in a trap like that. It was almost as if it was made for him. "It's magically sealed - this whole house. We can't get out until we break the seal. You can't smash the glass either. It's locked into place. I suspect you won't be able to get into the house from the outside either." He paused, calculated, before letting his shoulders sag. "I should never have brought you here- I think I might have lead us into something. Something fierce."

"What...what are you talking about? Led us into...what? Arthur. Tell me what's really going on. Who did this?" Alfred's brain had started his panic hormones by now. In no way did Alfred, the wonderful 234 year-old nation, consider himself young. But with Arthur's wise look, he felt like a little kid. The resigned way Arthur looked around them. "Let's get out now. _Now_."

"Let me answer in turn. A) A magical seal. Around the house - did you not listen? B) A... a _trap_. The sort I do not know of yet. C) I haven't the _foggiest._.." He cupped his mouth and span around. There was no leads to detecting the source of the seal. "There has to be a source. Something that is trapping us inside the house. But what _is_ it...?"

"What? Don't you mean, HOW, or why? Us. Who would trap us in a house on one of your islands, Arthur? You think it might be one of Russia's sick communist tricks again?" Alfred couldn't tell for his life what Arthur was searching for, and it drove him crazy. Supernatural was out of his league. And the way he thought about it all so calmly- it made Alfred fall to pieces.

"Don't be mean, Ivan's been a democracy for years," Arthur said, and shook his head gravely. "Ivan does not have this type of magic. His is different. This is... this is something like Norway, or Romania's magic. Or mine. It's just like ours, but-" he glanced over at Alfred curiously "You haven't done anything to piss either of them off, have you?"Alfred shot him a half-offended look.

"I...no! I don't do that. I don't_ think_ I have, anyway." Alfred bit his lip- he never could tell, and anyhow, he didn't even believe in things like_ magic._ Not a property of matter meant nonexistent in his book. Suddenly he reached out for Arthur and pulled him in close to him, a little frightened, but feeling the need. "Arthur. Arthur, I love you. You know that, don't you?" He didn't know why at all, but he had the urge to say it.

"Wha-" he frowned, hugging Alfred back as the American held onto him. He instinctively clutched on, thoughts processing what was happening. If there was a magical seal, something must have sealed them in. _Something_. He gritted his teeth and pulled back. "Alfred, look at me. We are going to get through this, do you understand? We need to find the source of the seal and destroy it. Once that's done, we can leave. Just count yourself lucky that we actually have food."

"Roger. At least we have each other," Alfred mumbled, unusually sentimental now that his mind wasn't even set on food. But his wide blue eyes were deep, warm pools of molten blue when he gazed at Arthur, and something made him want to hold on. "We'll destroy it. It'll be fine. Let's go hunt for some clues or something..." Yes, they really should have gone to Hawaii.

"That might be a good idea. Let's see..." Arthur murmured, moving away from Alfred and into the heart of this room. It was practically cavernous, taking up two stories of space, and without a lot in it. The grey light was thick and cold on their skin. Not even a chair. From the pictures on the wall, elaborate paintings rather than photographs, it seemed to be some sort of gallery. He moved towards one of the paintings to examine it, and that's where it struck him. The eyes. They looked like they were staring straight at him. Recognising a similar phenomenon with the paintings in his houses, he knew he should not be scared. It must be the situation. That was making him anxious.

Alfred saw the paintings, as well, and it did sort of give him the creeps. Big empty room, all that. And then all these people staring at them! The way in all the movies, the ghost would jump out... And here was Arthur moving near it. Alfred followed quietly and watched the paintings too, saw the one Arthur was gazing intently at but could detect nothing strange. Was this all a dream? A nightmare?

Arthur looked at the figure of the painting itself. It reminded him of Francis, only without that sodding facial fungus of a beard, and with brighter blond hair. The eyes were darker too, almost soulless. He supposed that was natural of a painting. But other than the deadliness in the eyes, it looked so realistic.

He continued to silently take the room in. Above the pseudo-Francis's painting was another, and another, and another, and then a fourth layer of paintings, going all the way around the room. He'd estimate that there was about sixty painting in that room overall. Funny. He side-stepped to examine the neck one and jumped. "Bloody hell, that shocked me..."

It looked kind of like Alfred. Except with blackout shades over his eye line, and dark red eyes that just - albeit creepy - drew you in. Even the clothing looked similar to his regular attire, but darker. It was like a more deathly, eviller version of the man standing a few feet away. Arthur blinked. His hair was darker, too, and the tan a little stronger than usual. But it definitely was-No, it just _resembled_ him.

Alfred saw. He finally understood why Arthur kept looking at these fancy paintings when the man had always never really had a fascination in the arts, never liked to paint. The first one that scared him was one that looked extraordinarily like Ivan. Only after you looked closer could you notice the subtle differences between the two, and well...the man felt chills creeping up his neck as he turned to the left to address Arthur about them and felt himself caught in the gaze of the coldest blue he'd ever seen. Like ice. And they stood out, the brightest eyes in the room, and the figure that beheld them was a kind of beautiful they didn't make words for.

"Alfred, there's one that's like you. Come have a look..." When there was no immediate response, Arthur pulled his eyes away from the pseudo-Alfred long enough to spot Alfred _staring_ at something in particular. He followed the American's eye-line, and found him looking at the painting next to the one he was on. "What is..."

Crystal blue eyes. The brightest he had ever seen. Mysterious and mystical and that was not even the half of it. Suddenly Arthur found himself staring at a painting of what he could only describe as _himself_. But different. The eyes were only the start. There was a jagged smile, crooked out of place as if the male in the frame was simply insane, and his hair was a curious shade of dark, reddish pink. Arthur, in curiosity, brushed his fingers over the painting, feeling the ridges of the materials used. "It's me. Why is it me?!"

"That's..:that's crazy. It's not you. It's not you!" Alfred shook his head furiously, though he looked at the painting again. Such a smile, so wicked and careless. No, he'd never seen Arthur with such a smile in his entire life, and there was no way that there was his lover. And yet so similar. Down to every structure. "Arthur, this is so freaky, you know these paintings? They're...they're like...us."

Arthur stared into the bright eyes as if they were pulling,_ dragging _him in. He touched his own cheek, frowning as he realised that their skin tone matched perfectly but none of the rest did. Finally when his eyes were torn away, he turned back towards Alfred. "Alfred, you remember when I said that something is wrong?"

"Yeah, I've kind of caught onto that! We're stuck in a giant house with creepy pictures. And there's a bad feeling going around, isn't there?" Alfred glanced at him, a sideways look, wondering now just how much more there was to the house. Hallway, kitchen, sitting room, gallery room. What else was there?! "Why?"

"I don't _know_!" Arthur shouted, and heard the sound echo back at him using the walls. He groaned and cupped his mouth, knowing that he had snapped a little bit too hard then. The pressure was on, and Arthur was aware that he, single-handedly, had brought them into his. "...Source. We have to find the source and destroy it so we can get out. Right now."

Alfred had jumped back, at the way Arthur was suddenly raising his voice. What a creepy room, really. And he still had no real idea of what was going on, but he nodded like he understood. "Are we looking for...a kind of power plant? Or...someone? Or...what?"

"Anything. It could literally be_ anything_. I can't see it in this room, though. I should be able to detect it if it is," Arthur explained. He quickly paced around the whole length of the room, taking in the surroundings to make certain. The faces on the wall were horribly similar to people they knew, but at the same time, not at all. "I'm sorry Alfred, I should have never brought you here. This might be the end of us." The green eyes were solemn. Alfred was unsure whether or not to laugh.

Way to be optimistic, Arthur. Way to really put their spirits up at a time like this! Never should have brought them here? Where? To his country, to this little island, to this godforsaken house? "What are you talking about? It's still just a house, no matter how creepy. We can still try to break out, I'm sure there's somewhere." Knowingly, there was nothing he particularly specialized in this area, but all the same, he wanted to make things better.

"...R-right." Arthur murmured, casually wrapping his hands around his own torso. He took in a deep breath and nodded again, trying to reassure himself - for Alfred's optimism alone was not enough. Clearly, the American had no idea how hard it was to detect the source of a seal. Then there was the question of who made the seal in the first place. "Come on- Let's check the rest of the house."

"Yeah. And look, calm down a little bit, I'm sure it's not that bad." Alfred smiled at him reassuringly, brightly, and wrapped an arm around Arthur quickly, kissing his forehead. "I love you. Pessimist. Now, let's make a map as we go, huh...? So we know which rooms are where. Have any paper?"

"No, no I do not. I haven't seen any so far. Let's look for a study or something, alright?" Arthur said, sinking into Alfred's arm a little bit - closing his eyes and breathing Alfred in to calm himself down. Alfred could always make him feel better. When he broke away, he went back towards the sitting room and stood by the door as he waited for Alfred go to through.

He gave the room one more check over, and let his eyes linger on their paintings. The shaded Alfred and the winking blue eyed him. Out of his fear and uncertainty, he did not realise what was wrong with that image.

"A study. Fantastic, really," Alfred commented over cheerfully for the sake of Arthur, who looked more scared than he did, when all Alfred wanted him to do was smile. He walked back through the door to the siting room. "Come on."

Arthur frowned, detecting that something was definitely wonky about this, but put it down to nerves. He turned away and plunged back into the sitting room too, and stormed straight over to the third door. This mystery had to be solved. Where did it _go_?

He reached out to grab the handle, only to notice there was not one. That was odd. With a push, Arthur realized it was locked. Great. So, it was a door that was locked, went nowhere, and had no handle. Time for more investigation. "Alfred, why don't you check upstairs?"

"Upstairs? Huh. Alright, let's go- wait...did you want me to go separately? And leave you here?" Leaving Arthur alone when he already seemed terrified did not seem like a good idea. In fact, separating at all didn't seem too great. Alfred frowned at him. "And we don't even know where the staircase is."

"I need to investigate something, Alfred. Surely you could scan a few rooms by yourself?" Arthur said, purposely neglecting that they might not be alone in the house. He didn't want to scare Alfred. "Shout loudly if you need me, won't you?"

"Well, yeah, but...I don't even know what to look for. Do I just take pictures of suspicious things, or what?" Alfred looked at him anxiously, wanting to be of some use but not wanting to leave Arthur. He glanced back. The main hallway had a staircase, maybe he should start up there.

"No, I want you to scan the house and see what we have, Alfred? Is that so hard?" Arthur said, glancing at him in confusion. Why was the command so difficult? Then he realised. Could Alfred actually be scared? He looked at him empathetically, and left the door alone to go to him and take his hand. "Alright. Let's both go."

"Well, good! I mean, I needed to protect you in case something bad happened, you know? I want to be with you. So...yeah." Alfred cast his blue eyes earnestly on Arthur, squeezing the hand in his own, pulling them along now to the staircase by the main hallway they entered from. Some antechamber was behind it- unimportant. "As long as we're together." Sometimes, Alfred believed that the only courage he could muster up was if he was protecting Arthur.

Since they were now in the hallway, Arthur looked at the wall suspiciously, trying to see if there had previously been a door there. Not a single ridge, nor any disturbance in the old wallpaper. It looked like there had never been a door there at all. What on Earth?!

He sighed, trying not to get too confused with a fuzzy head, before he examined Alfred curiously to see how he was coping. Well enough, he was pleased to tell himself. Arthur cupped his cheek for a second, and leant up to kiss him once. "Have courage, alright...?" Arthur whispered against his lips.

For him? Those green eyes were wonderfully bright and real. So beautiful. Alfred found his breath leaving him as he fell in love _again_, and he nodded, gazing into the green orbs so astonished. Lovely man. "Of course. I'm...not scared." God knows how much it terrified him, but it terrified him more to think about what might happen to Arthur.

"_Course_," Arthur repeated, giving his lover another soft, smooth kiss. He moaned lightly into it, and remembered the sex they had just had, sanctity interrupted by that sodding phone call and more bad news. Just their luck. When he broke off, he darted up the stairs to investigate what was up here. "It's a lot smaller. Look, there's the bathroom. Nothing even slightly terrifying in there. Er... Hm. What else?"

Alfred followed the beautiful form up the stairs, trying to shake the stars out of his vision. An old bathroom, oval mirror with silver guildings around it, a basin for a sink, old fashioned stopper. Not scary at all, as Arthur had said. "Bloody Mary won't show up in the mirror, will she? Here, what about this?" The bathroom had another door, that lead to a bath and...another bedroom, maybe?

"Don't tell me you believe in that?" Arthur asked, rolling his eyes. It would actually be reasonably interesting to talk to his old Queen if she would actually appear. People appearing in mirrors was almost as ridiculous as paintings of their darker selves. He pushed another door open, and bit his lip. It was a bedroom, and frankly it was magnificent.

The bed frame was expansive and gold, and the mahogany-coloured sheets were embroidered to total perfection. It was not strictly a male's bedroom, but it captured Arthur's tastes. Otherwise, the furniture was stained porcelain white. The wallpaper was creme-filled and splattered with licks of gold in the shape of leaves, and though it sounded a strange combination it was actually a brilliant addition to the room, to frame it. A chocolate brown wall was behind the bed, completing the design. Luxurious. Royal, even.

He sighed; if this bollocks had not happened, he could imagine him and Alfred having some rather dynamite sexual interactions in there. Stepping inside, he went to examine the silly little TV-on-wheels (a small one atop a trolley, more like), hating how out of place it looked with the scene.

It was old. It was dusty. It was ugly.

"Won't tell you, then- Whoa." Alfred walked in the room with an air of being impressed, himself, and looked around a little. This room was a little warmer than the rest, and without the creepy paintings it actually looked pretty nice. A glance at Arthur showed that he clearly liked it too- It made Alfred think.

Maybe one day, when they were married, they could_ have_ a room like this. Together. Like a normal couple. So many warm colours, cherry and white and gold and peach, all cream tones against the bed. Only thing that broke the colour scheme was the little TV thing Arthur was poking at, and Alfred came over to view it too, wrinkling his nose. Not hazardous at all, no, but still so strange with the current set up that it was bothersome. "This looks really old."

"It's a lot newer than the house," Arthur pointed out. He turned it on, only to find that there was no way for it to receive pictures. It was plugged in, but all that came out was white noise. He examined the telly, before he realized that there was a video player underneath Nothing inside it though, and no tapes around. Interesting. Looks like they'd have to find a VCR for entertainment. "Next room?"

"Yeah, come on. This hallway...should lead to the outside of this room and that bathroom. Here, two more doors on this side of the hallway," Alfred remarked, committing things to memory as he walked along. His hand gripped Arthur's as they made their way along. Across the hallway, right next to the stairs, was another room, the door slightly ajar. "Which one to first, love?"

"Does it happen to matter? We'll check all of them," Arthur said. He stepped into the next room, giving a relieved laugh. "Aha, _library_." Had they not been trapped in here, Arthur was certain that he would _love_ this place. He took in the environment, bookcases stretching upwards to an unusually high ceiling. He hummed in delight, loving the sight of books upon books, shelf upon shelf. He took one out and blew the dust off of it. "A book on Edgar Allen Poe?_ Well,_" Arthur started. "Whoever lived here had good taste. Is that a desk in the corner?" He looked up at his boyfriend.

"Emily Dickinson. Robert Frost. And, ugh, is that Karl Marx?" Alfred spared the writings a momentary glance, before shaking his head in disgust at the communist book and turning away. This room was slightly creepier, with darker and neutral-toned walls. But it was neat looking. "That's a desk. I'm gonna check for some paper and pens...wanna make a quick diagram and some notes so I can fix up some quick things..." He strode over, and promptly began to tear open drawers, messily. Typical. Life or death situations didn't change any bad habits, it seemed.

"Communism isn't the only thing that came out from Marxist teachings, you know. It's not altogether _that_ bad," the smaller blond said, with a vague hint of annoyance about him from that, and shoved the book back into place. He let Alfred sort out a map, while he took a moment to survey the room in search of any magically embued items. A few minutes later, Arthur deliberated that there was nothing of interest here - yet. "You done?"

"Uh, I would be if this dude would have a nice clipboard or a pen...damn." Out of the desk, he'd discovered some ivory, cream coloured sheets and was now digging for a writing utensil. Ah! The case popped open, and Alfred took out a sleek, crimson fountain pen, with a marble like white tip and clip. Blue designs streaked across it, and he tested it on the paper as red ink flowed easily across the paper. "Hey, this is nice. I gotta get me one of these. Coming!"

And in his hurry to toss everything back into the desk, he just didn't notice that the case had his name scrawled across it.

"You done so far?" Arthur asked. He did not want to wait around too long. The sooner they were not trapped in this place, the absolute better.

He moved out, and went to check the last room. Another seemingly useless bedroom - not helping their cause in the slightest. A quick scan around, opening cupboards and the like, was all he needed to do to make sure that it was no longer suspicious. Normal, like the rest of the upstairs. Nothing questionable jumped out at him yet. He checked the windows to make sure they did not open, and waited for Alfred to come collect him.

"I can only draw so fast!" But Alfred had the mind of an engineer. And his map did prove that not everything he drew was a pointless (heroic!) doodle. The proportions were generally close to the room's actually sizes, and he'd taken care to label: Antehall, sitting room, kitchen, Gallery... On the second sheet he labelled "SECOND" and began to draw all the rooms they'd been to, sure to mark any distinct features. The paintings were labelled, the loveseat in the sitting room was mentioned, and he tried to position the doors right before going to Arthur. "Sorry. Done, for now. What are these two? What next?"

"Hm? Oh, yes..." Arthur murmured, spinning around to face Alfred and opening his arms to showcase the room. "As you can see, it's another bedroom. Nothing worth seeing in here." He walked up to his lover and exited, before stopping before they got to the next layer of stairs going up from the hallway again. "There's nothing in the other rooms, which means that the source of the seal _must_ be up there. Whether 'there' is."

"Damn...that's a freaky thought." Alfred bit his lips, and sketched out the last two rooms on floor two quickly. Well, third the worst. Might as well get it over with, since most of the trip had been peaceful so far. The staircase wound up, the iron designs elaborate and hard to follow. He took Arthur's hand again, looking up and wondering just what was up there- the stairs turned halfway. "Come on, then, I'll protect you." Lightly.

Whirling upwards, the journey seemed to go on forever. Arthur wondered if they were going up the strange tower-like formation. This place had such vibrant architecture. Finally, the stairs evened out into a landing, and they were met with a singular door. Arthur went to it, cautiously, with his heart thumping as he wondered what would be inside. He took a sharp breath in, and turned the handle-Only to find that nothing happened. It was locked. "Oh for fuck's sake!"

"Hey, calm down," Alfred laughed, releasing the breath he'd been holding. An amused look at the door, then he kissed Arthur's forehead- because he was so adorable when he was angry. The blue eyes glanced at the lock in contemplation, and Alfred tried it again, before pulling out his fountain pen since he was handy with picking a lock. "If it's a lock without all this magic stuff, I can get it."

"It doesn't have a seal, no. It's just fucking locked. Like every fucking door in this fucking place," Arthur's real state of calmness shone through, finally, past his deliberately and prior emotion-less exterior when it came to their situation. The world of 'keep calm and carry on' breaking down as Arthur noticeably got more tense. He was worried, and was bad at hiding it. "You sure you can pick it?"

"Yeah, love. Hang on a bit..." Alfred peered at the lock, calculating the shape of it and looking at his pen nib before twisting it inside, cautiously picking it about, before tugging. Click! "That's the right noise. Ha, I love this pen...it was like a key, how great is that? Arthur? ..." Alfred turned to see his partner behind him, paler than usual, and softened so, so much. All his fear practically melted away. "Hey...Arthur."

Arthur didn't answer him like he probably should have. He just found himself lost in his own thoughts for a small while. This was all his fucking fault. Why did he not book the holiday with Alfred with him? He thought this would be, he didn't know, some sort of _nice surprise_ for Alfred, post-work. Fuck absolutely everything, especially himself.

"Baby, don't be scared. Don't look like that." The American tilted his head slightly, and came over to the smaller man to pull him in close. Yes, Alfred, despite their conditions, just couldn't help but fall more and more hopelessly in love. Not the best conditions, but when he breathed in the scent of rain in Arthur's hair, he felt dizzy. "We'll be okay. Remember that."

Arthur sighed, trying to release a heavy weight on his chest that would _just not go._ He slumped against Alfred's shoulder, closing his eyes and letting the American hug him in. Usually he hated showing agitation like this, but he could not help it. He felt useless. "It's my fault..." He muttered into Alfred's clothed self.

"It's okay, Arthur. Don't feel bad...we've been in other bad situations. Remember D-day?" Alfred's fingers brushed against Arthur's back lightly, and yes, he was wearing Arthur's favourite cologne. The blue eyes were warm when they regarded him, the lips more so when they touched the top of his head. Trying to comfort him.

Even if he was worried that Arthur was so worried.

* * *

**I HAVE FINISHED EDITING PART ONE.  
****We roleplayed it over Skype so I had to delete the part where it showed our usernames before _every single post_ and all the derpiness we had in between. I have never appreciated how hard Des worked at editing all her fics until I did this, and lemme tell ya, it's exhausting. Don't expect Part Two until I get more work done, but I hope you enjoy. If you find any typos, or you see anything that needs to be fixed, let me know! I'm working on drawing the cover for this story. It's got to be my favourite roleplay.**

**-SSS**


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